


A Perfect Soul, A Perfect Face --- A Perfect Lie

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Con Artists, Double Life, Jim is a con artist and Bones is his mark, Los Angeles, M/M, POV Male Character, Present Tense, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk has been a con artist since he could walk.</p><p>Somehow though, Leonard McCoy is different from his usual Marks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Set Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/gifts).



> So I started watching the Catch, aka Shonda Rimes newest television show, and the relationship between Allie and Christopher/Benjamin is like...well it makes the show.
> 
> So here comes this because I'm easy and Jim would rob me blind.
> 
> Don't fret too terribly much about Bones. I promise you have no need to.
> 
> Title taken from the Nip/Tuck theme song.

There are rules to this sort of thing, Jim understands this. Jim has always understood this since he started this endeavor, since he realized when he was a kid he was good at pickpocketing, since he got told what his dad had really done for a living and why he never came home because of the lengthy prison sentence.

There are rules, and Jim generally doesn’t ignore them or throw them away.

The plan is simple: Jim is going to pose as a billionaire renewable energy CEO. He is going to apply for help via a PI firm based in Beverly Hills. He is going to ultimately decide to pass on hiring them.

The face of the company is the lead PI, named Leonard McCoy. Nyota Uhura is his COO and she runs the day to day. McCoy has an associate named Pavel Chekov who, even though he’s ten, acts as the muscle. And there’s a new hire named Christine who seems to not fit in yet and is an attorney of some kind.

McCoy wants his business, but what Jim notices is the color of his eyes. He’s never seen such a vibrant green not in a cartoon or painting, and he’s momentarily dazzled every time they make eye contact. But Jim keeps it professional, politely informs Uhura that Sam Carr will not be hiring the firm, and goes home.

That night Jim is dining alone at Matteo when the hostess shows McCoy to his table. Jim looks at him with curiosity and some false annoyance.

Rule Number One: Do not approach the Mark. Make the Mark come to you.

“Your assistant is tight-lipped,” McCoy says with a grin. “Took a lot of cajoling to get your favorite dinner spot out of her.”

“She’s about to be my former assistant,” Jim quips. He adjusts the non-prescription glasses. “What can I help you with, Mister McCoy?”

McCoy smiles, and it’s rather charming, Jim admits. “I’m here to ask you to reconsider.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jim answers.

“Can I ask why?” McCoy inquires, the smile slipping off his face.

“There is a conflict of interest,” Jim says. He gestures and the waiter brings another menu as the sommelier arrives with Jim’s favorite chardonnay. 

“Is it that Montgomery Scott referred you?” McCoy asks. He takes a sip of the wine.

“Ah no,” Jim admits. “The conflict of interest is why I’m buying you dinner instead of having you escorted out.”

McCoy’s left eyebrow rises into his $200 haircut. He looks pleased though, he’s not casing for an exit. And his guard is completely down, which bodes well. He clears his throat. “Ah. Well.”

“You can walk, and we both go back about our lives,” Jim explains. “But I’ll be honest, I’d much rather you stay.”

McCoy’s entire demeanor shifts, becoming more open. A different smile fills his lips, this one Jim realizing is softer and more full of light. “I’m good staying.”

During the course of the dinner, Jim observes Rule Two: don’t tell anything about yourself. It’s too hard to keep details straight. Keep it vague, ask the Mark all the questions. Keep him talking about himself.

He learns Leonard originally was in school to be a doctor, the he has a daughter named Joanna he sees odd weekends and all holidays thanks to an amicable divorce, he learns he’s from Marietta, Georgia and still roots for the Braves but the Dodgers will do in a pinch, he learns he loves art and of particular interest is a painting by Maria Kreyn called “Alone Together,” he drives a Mercedes, and he sometimes disappears from the office to the beach to puzzle out details of trying cases.

The dessert is eaten and Jim walks McCoy out to his car with his hand on his back. But he blocks him from opening the door when the valet hands him the keys. “Do this again with me tomorrow night,” Jim says.

His Mark smiles. “Do we need to wait twenty-four hours?”

Jim smiles, but it’s not at the invitation. It’s because he’s successful.


	2. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim lies awake in McCoy's bedroom.

The way McCoy’s house is situated in the Hollywood hills, the bedroom faces the dawn with a wall of nothing but floor to ceiling glass. Neither of them slept, which Jim has to admit he found invigorating.

He’s on his side with McCoy at his back, arms around his waist. He feels his lips on the nape of his neck, and Jim closes his eyes to bask in it.

“I hardly know anything about you,” McCoy says.

“Later,” Jim answers. “I’m not going to disappear.”

He will, but not yet. It’s a long con, they always pay off better. He’s done this dozens of times. 

“What time do you have to be in the office?” Jim asks.

“It’s Saturday, and I’m at loose ends for once,” McCoy replies. “No stake outs. All the clients are happy and not needing dirt. It won’t last, but it’s nice.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jim says. He rolls over, ending up on his back to look into McCoy’s eyes. “Breakfast in bed?”

“I can pick it up and bring it back,” McCoy says.

“Aw but,” Jim leans up, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You should finagle it so it comes here.”

“There is one place that delivers breakfast, but not until nine,” McCoy replies, kissing him. “So we’ll have to bide our time somehow.”

Jim doesn’t speak, just more kissing. As the sky turns gold and blue they make love in McCoy’s bed, and Jim decides taking this Mark is worth it just for this. The sex is the best Jim’s ever had if he’s being honest, though he knows better than to ever admit that when Carol can hear.

Speaking of, he needs to call her and check in. She was expecting him at two and he’d been very busy.

McCoy gets up to shower, disappearing into his bath, and Jim gets up. He reaches to the floor, grabbing the thumb drive from his pants. There’s a desk in front of the window with an iMac that’s on standby, and Jim inserts the tumb drive, making it come back to life. Few keystrokes and clicks later, and he’s accessed the main server. 

But everything, everything is incredibly encrypted. It’s to the point he can’t even duplicate the files.

This complicates things. A lot.

Jim hides the thumb drive back in his slacks, backs out of the server, and brings up the New York Times blog. He pretends to read the stocks when McCoy comes out of his bathroom in loose sleep pants and a towel around his shoulders.

Jim glances up, smiling. McCoy pulls on a linen t-shirt. “So eggs over easy and rare steak, anything else?” 

Jim stares.

“What?”

“How’d you know my favorite breakfast?” Jim asks, a bit bewildered. It’s real—it’s not a fabrication of Sam Carr’s persona.

“It’s my favorite, so I figured I couldn’t make a mistake,” he answers.

Jim exhales, relieved. He’s the best PI on the West Coast, and Jim realizes he’s playing a potentially losing game. He has to stay in good with the Mark or it’s all over.

There’s another rule Jim knows is part of guaranteeing success, but the rule flies out of his head as McCoy kisses him, grabs a Braves cap, and heads out for their food.

Jim immediately calls Carol when five minutes have passed. On Sam’s phone of course, as Carol is the helpful receptionist who told McCoy where to find Jim.

It rings once. “About time.”

“I was held up,” Jim says. He rummages in McCoy’s closet, pulling on satin pajamas. “Gotta keep him happy.”

“Not too happy, Jim,” Carol’s British accent chides. “Remember who you come home to.”

Jim hadn’t forgotten, but when the game was in play him and Carol always put them on hold. It was neater, easier, prevented the Marks from suspecting infidelity.

“Sever’s locked down tight, Car,” Jim says. “This is gonna push our timetable out from months to probably a full year.”

“We can be patient,” she answered. “The benefactor’s in no hurry.”

“For once,” Jim says with a sigh. Pike funds their ventures provided they provide a service. It was Jim, Carol, and Sulu, with Carol acting as hacker and liaison and Sulu…you name it, he does it.

Jim picks up an art magazine left on the tie rack, and it’s folded open to a painting. A man and a woman in an embrace, the woman looking right at him but the man’s face obscured, turning away. It’s the piece McCoy said he wanted to see, titled Alone Together. It comes to the Getty in a year.

Jim makes a note to have Sam donate a large sum to the Getty to guarantee he and McCoy will be there for the opening gala.

It’s the first time Jim’s thought about the future in years, and he imagines McCoy…no, Leonard…dressed in white tie next to him with champagne before the painting. It’s a warm image that lifts Jim’s soul, and he smiles.   
The third rule, the one that is cracking, little splinters not enough to shatter, but enough to down the line snap him to bits…the third rule…

Don’t get attached.


	3. Take Out

It’s been six weeks since Samuel Ryan Carr approached Uhura McCoy Investigations, leaving without hiring them and but working his way into Leonard McCoy’s life as his new romance.

Jim is being very careful, because he needs to follow Rule Four. Don’t take, never take, only give. So McCoy’s life is now full of romantic gestures as Jim pretends to be the perfect partner, the perfect boyfriend.

McCoy sends a text while Jim is en route to a restaurant for dinner with, “Sorry darlin'. Work calls. I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave.”

So Jim heads from his prior destination to this Asian fusion place McCoy loves, has his order memorized, gets food for himself and some sake, and drives to his office.

McCoy sits at his computer staring at it, not paying any mind to his surroundings. Nyota Uhura is on her way out of her office next door when she sees Jim laden down with brown paper bags and smiles. “He’ll thank you for this,” she says.

“No thanks needed,” Jim replies with a smile.

Uhura shakes her head a few times, her long, perfectly wavy hair framing her face. Uhura is actually a PI as well, but she handles more of the day-to-day as the COO of the company. She dresses less practically than Leonard as a result-Uhura’s standard uniform consists of a pencil skirt, a silk blouse, and Gucci heels. Her nails are always long, almond-shaped, and Louboutin red. She has a husband named Jabilo who insists everyone call him Geoff. Jim and Leonard have been out with them three times now on double dates. 

It’s enough to show Jim there’s trouble in paradise. She doesn’t see it, however.

Uhura smiles brighter. “We all should be thanking you, to be honest. The divorce wasn’t bad, but he took it pretty hard. Threw himself into work. Now that he’s got you, we don’t worry about him so much. So thank you. You both deserve happiness.”

Jim smiles, but inside his heart feels a bit frozen which is odd. Friends and family of other Marks have said similar things…it never bothered him before. But this time it makes him feel something he thought died when he was thirteen.

Guilt.

“Thank you, Nyota,” he says, sincere. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Of course,” she says with a wave. She grabs her handbag, turns off the main office lights, and heads out. Jim knocks on McCoy’s glass door. He looks up, confusion giving way to surprise and pleasure.

“Oh you didn’t—”

“I wanted to,” Jim says. “You need to eat. Burning the midnight oil isn’t healthy.” Jim hands McCoy his food and chopsticks, pours them the sake, and sits on the chaise in the other end of the office. “I’ll be over here. Staying out of your way. Won’t even talk.”

McCoy smiles. “Thank you, Sam. I mean it.”

“Get back to work,” Jim quips with a wink. He starts eating his sea bass, McCoy digging into his halibut. McCoy works for an hour, Jim reading obituaries on his phone. Samuel Ryan Carr was a real person who died the week Jim met McCoy—he had no surviving family. Jim opened several big credit cards with his social, used his name to meet McCoy…it’s how Jim picks his personas. Reading the obits has become a habit.

Jim thinks quietly about how he ended up in Los Angeles. He’d still be in Zurich or Monte Carlo if not for that fucking Interpol Agent who was like a dog with a damn bone. Spock S’chn T’gai was relentless, chasing him, Carol, and Sulu out of Europe to the states. It’d been eleven months with not a peep from Spock, and Jim was beginning to think they may have finally bested him. But that kind of thinking could get him caught, so Jim puts a stop to it.

His fish is gone, Jim having eaten every bite. He sips the sake and looks at baseball standings on one of McCoy’s company iPads. Jim really doesn’t give a shit about sports, no time, but McCoy loves baseball. So now he understands the designated hitter rule and follows the standings. It’s still Spring Training, and he’s contemplating surprising McCoy with season tickets to the Dodgers. In fact…Jim opens the website, makes the purchase for the good ones in the box, and forwards the confirmation email to Carol to get reimbursed by Pike. It’s a pretty penny, but it’ll make McCoy happy. Jim’s main purpose in life at this moment is making McCoy happy.

Jim goes back to reading about entertainment news, since he has to pretend to care about television and films. Fine Upstanding Citizen Sam Carr likes relaxing in his apartment with Leonard curled up around him on the couch binging on Netflix, so Jim reads spoiler sites for popular shows to pretend like he’s watched them the whole time.

Jim also makes a note that he has a tee time with Sulu the next day at ten. When Jim goes in, Jim goes IN, and Sulu schedules golf with him to ask about the status. Less suspicious that way if Sulu is Sam’s longtime golf buddy.  
Jim is so lost in thought, he doesn’t see McCoy get up from the computer, climb onto the chaise, or move at all until the iPad is pulled down from his field of view. Jim raises an eyebrow with a smile. “Can I help you?”

McCoy is draped over top of him, Jim lying on his back. His hands stroke Jim’s face, their eyes locked, and as always Jim is dazzled by the color of Leonard’s. Then his hands dip down to Jim’s waist, slowly undoing his belt. Jim’s eyes follow McCoy’s hands as the belt gets tossed across the office, then he undoes the fly on Jim’s pants. 

They get pulled off one leg at a time, Jim’s briefs following suit. He’s mostly hard because why wouldn’t he be, and McCoy bends down to go to work.

Jim drops one hand into McCoy’s hair, the other covering his eyes as he leans his head back, almost hanging off the edge. His heart stutters for a bit in a way he doesn’t recognize or understand, in a way that he can’t figure out for the life of him.

He’ll figure it out in ten months and two weeks when it’s time to be extracted.


	4. Tee Time

Jim strikes a drive down the fairway—it’s clean, the ball whipping through the air like a katana through silk. It lands neatly on the green, mere inches from the hole.

“Nice,” Sulu says from beneath his visor.

“Thanks,” Jim smiles.

It’s Sulu’s turn, and he does just as well, landing a foot from Jim’s ball. They put away their clubs, put the bags in the cart, and drive off after to finish the hole.

“So what’s new in Sam Carr’s life?” Sulu asks. It’s a specific wording to prevent any possible eavesdroppers from knowing too much. Carol hates it when they’re sloppy.

“Leonard is eating out of my hand,” Jim says as he steers around a corner.

Sulu nods. “That’s what we like to hear.”

Jim smiles, thinking about the night before. His heart dances in his chest at the memory, though he tries to quell it. It’s just another con. Leonard is just another Mark.

Isn’t he?

They arrive on the green, Jim parking the cart. They get out, their focus on the next play. Jim sinks his ball effortlessly, and he’s currently four under par. Sulu sinks his also with grace, ending up three under.

“You know, I admit, I’m a bit worried,” Sulu says as they drive to the next hole.

“About what?” Jim says with a glance at him.

Sulu adjusts his orange visor that matches the plaid in his pants. Jim’s not dressed like an eyesore, but it’s something Sulu does as a way of making people not notice what he looks like. 

It works.

“Well just…you never use your Marks’ first names,” Sulu points out. “So why Leonard and not McCoy?”

Jim freezes. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say. “I—”

Sulu has taken the visor off and stares at him. Something passes through his eyes, something unnerving and severe. One of his eyebrows rise and he makes an O with his mouth. “Jim, you don’t _like_ him do you?”

Jim almost drives them off the trail in shock. He jerks the wheel in surprise, managing to fix it before an accident happens. People are staring. “What? What? No. No I don’t like him.”

Sulu replaces the visor. “You sound like a ten year old boy about his first crush.”

Jim sputters, adjusts his Ray Bans. He parks the cart. Neither of them move. “I don’t…you know me, Hikaru. I don’t get attached.”

“Normally,” Sulu points out. “Something’s different this time.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Jim says. “Nothing’s changed. I haven’t changed. I’m getting in good with not only him but his office, in a little while I’ll be able to gain the access we need. I’m just into the role, Hikaru.” He turns his eyes to the trail, starting the cart back up. “That’s all.”

Sulu isn’t convinced. It’s clear by the seriousness in the set of his mouth.

Jim sighs, gets out of the cart, and grabs his clubs. He stalks toward the green, not looking back at his partner. He knows how he gets when he goes under, he knows it gets fairly consuming. Jim doesn’t care about Leonard McCoy, but Sam does a great deal.

Sulu joins him, not speaking. Jim takes his swing. Sulu takes his.

Then he speaks. “Jim,” he says. “Don’t go so deep I can’t extract you. Okay?”

Jim nods. He won’t.

Right?


	5. Double Date

Jim has been Sam for going on five months. He’s mostly settled into it at this point. The original con was only supposed to last three - come on as a client, get the bank info of McCoy’s actual clients, run.

They’re having dinner with Nyota Uhura and Geoff M’Benga at McCoy’s house. It’s going really well, pleasant banter between all four of them. Jim’s figured out that the marital issues between Nyota and Geoff are all in the latter’s head— he’s older and he doesn’t understand how she’s with him.

Jim also kind of doesn’t but the heart wants what it wants.

Nyota tells a story of McCoy going undercover, seducing a perp, getting what he needed, and zip-tying his wrists just as the police intervened. Jim wonders for a moment if maybe the change in plans he made was incredibly fucking stupid. 

Then McCoy smiles at him with nothing but adoration, and Jim realizes no, he’s still the one with all the power.

The thought makes his blood run cold. 

Nyota and Geoff say their goodbyes and head home, and Jim begins cleaning up the dinner party. He’s been living here for six weeks, made himself at home, moved all of Sam Carr’s clothing into McCoy’s walk in closet. 

Granted that required more money from the Benefactor but eh.

There were rumblings that Pike was about to try to collect, but Carol wasn’t really forthcoming. 

McCoy wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist from behind. “Nyota thinks you’re good for me,” he says as he kisses the side of Jim’s neck.

“I’d be afraid if she thought otherwise,” Jim admits. It’s one of the few honest things he’s said.

McCoy is quiet for a while. “You ever think about it? Getting married?”

Jim counts his lucky stars he can’t see his face. “Sometimes.” McCoy is quiet again and Jim finishes washing the dishes. He grabs the half full bottle of champagne. “Want to kill this?”

McCoy smirks. “Bring it to bed.”

Jim enjoys the idea immensely. “Will do.”

The lights in McCoy’s bedroom are on a dimmer, and he sets them to about thirty percent. He pulls off his cardigan, dropping it to the floor, as Jim follows with the half-full magnum of Veuve. Jim takes a swig as McCoy pulls off the shirt he wore under the cashmere, showing off his spin-class-and-weights-devotee chest. 

Jim takes another swig, something filling his heart at the sight. Something he thought was impossible, something he never knew he could feel.

It causes him to stop a few feet from McCoy, Sulu’s words about going too deep for extraction rearing their ugly head. His heart skips, his mouth goes dry…he suddenly vies for this man’s touch, he vies to say yes to the marriage question.

Out of all the cons Jim’s run…nothing’s ever been real.

But this is. It’s totally real. He’s not faking the smiles or the kisses, he’s not faking a fucking thing besides his identity.

He kisses McCoy, then pours some champagne into his mouth. Jim drinks the champagne from his lips, it spilling down their chins. He undoes and unfastens Leonard’s pants, dropping them to the floor. His shirt and slacks follow, the two of them climbing carefully onto the bed. Jim pours champagne into Leonard’s navel, bending down to drink it from him. Leonard gasps, groans, and Jim moves down lower on his body, peeling down his boxers. Leonard wears silk ones, which Jim has always found incredibly appealing.

He blows him for a minute or two, doing all the things he knows he likes by heart. He climbs back up his body, pouring the champs on his chest to lick it off. Leonard groans, growls, and Jim realizes he needs a better name than Leonard. It’s long, formal, and ill-fitting.

Leonard flips them, pours the champagne in Jim’s mouth and drinks, returning the favor. The night passes in a blur of sex and alcohol, Leonard mentioning around dawn he’s relieved it’s Saturday. They watch the sunrise together with sheets wrapped around their waists, just close enough to feel each other’s body heat.

“Do you…” Leonard says. He’s uncharacteristically hesitant. “If I asked…If I was the one proposing…would you say yes?”

Jim doesn’t have the chance to formulate a lie. “Are you asking me?”

He wants the answer to be yes.

Leonard turns so they’re facing each other against the orange and gold sky. “I am.”

This is the moment, Jim realizes. He should come clean, tell him the truth. He should cut and run.

Instead, the words tumble out of his mouth. “Yes. Let’s get married.”

They kiss.


	6. Five Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost time to be extracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while, but here we are!

Jim sits in Sam’s office reading the Wall Street Journal when Carol opens his door. “Mister Carr?” she asks.

“Yes, Melissa?”

“Leonard is here,” she says.

Jim straightens up. He adjusts his glasses. “You know you can just let him in.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were dealing with something sensitive, sir,” she replies. Her light blonde hair is, as always, perfectly coiffed. The black pencil skirt hugs her curves, the teal blouse tied into a bow at her neck.

Jim smiles. He minimizes the decryption software. “Fair enough.”

Leonard is shown in, and Jim stands, meets him halfway with a long kiss. Carol gives them a pointed look before closing the door to Sam’s office. “I thought we could get lunch,” Leonard says. 

“Let’s have it brought to us, then,” Jim says as he puts his hands in Leonard’s back pockets-he’s wearing a blazer, a tie with an oxford, and jeans. It’s a working day, Jim knows from their discussion over breakfast that morning. 

Jim kisses him again and Leonard laughs, backs away. “You don’t want to eat do you?”

He doesn’t. Not food anyways. He places Leonard’s face in his hands. “No, I want to bend you over my desk and get a noise complaint from Melissa later since we can’t be alone tonight.”

Tonight is the opening of Maria Kreyn at the Getty. There’s an art thief on the loose, and Leonard has been hired to protect the painting. He’s also been hired to entrap the thief, which…he’s this guy’s type. Jim’s met Khan and worked with him a few times…Leonard will hit him right where he aches between his legs.

He hits Jim there, too, and the thought of Leonard making out with Khan makes him sick. So he pounces, kisses, sucks, bites until Leonard is begging and Jim slides into him, bending him over the desk as promised while music blares from his work speakers. Leonard’s knees give out when they’re done, and Jim goes into his office washroom to get a wet cloth. He cleans him up, pressing little kisses to his cheeks.

Leonard eventually regains the ability to say something other than _more_ and _harder_. He fixes his clothing and his hair. “Well.”

“Yeah, Bones?” Jim asks with a smirk.

“Bones,” Leonard wonders. “Is that me?”

“It’s a synonym for what we just did, what we do often, what is the best I’ve ever had,” Jim replies. "Yes, it's you."

It’s not a lie. He’s been lying less and less. There’s been wedding fittings, tastings, venue auditions…and he loves it all. He loves all of it, he really wants to marry this man, Leonard McCoy now Bones. With a kiss and a smack on the ass, Sam Carr sends his fiance on his way. Carol swoops in as soon as she sees his car leave the garage under the building. “You could stand to be more discreet,” she chides.

Jim shrugs.

“The decryptions are nearly done,” she says. “Off to the next adventure.” She hands him a boarding pass—first class to Singapore under a fake passport.

Jim swallows, stares at the itinerary. “Five days.”

“We’ll regroup in Hong Kong when we meet the benefactor,” Carol says. “You and Sulu first. I’ll follow a week later. I booked your favorite suite.”

Jim’s mouth is completely dry. “Sure.”

He has five days.


	7. LAX to Bern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this is a real flight that leaves LAX tomorrow. One ticket is $14500. I didn't mistakenly add a zero. That is literally how much those tickets set Jim back.
> 
> Other fun fact: the menu on this flight is baller.

Three days later, Jim buys two first-class one-way plane tickets on his own personal American Express. One using Sam Carr’s passport, the other using McCoy, Leonard Horatio. He books a chalet in Gstaad with a wire transfer. He gets two burner phones and a new cellphone with a different number that’s unlocked. He drives to the Getty, steals a badge, and procures a present for his Bones.

Then he drives to the office of Bones’ PI firm. He’s greeted by Pavel Chekov. “Hello Sam!” he proclaims.

“Hi Pavel, your boss here?” Jim asks.

“Yeah, he’s in his office,” and that’s when Jim notices Pavel has a shiner.

Jim touches the kid’s chin, tilting his head for a better look. “Frozen peas.”

“I usually use a steak,” Pavel answers.

“Nah, the peas mold to your face better,” Jim says.

“I think I’ll just use the vodka I keep in our freezer.” Pavel grins.

“Smart man,” Jim concedes. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sure!" Pavel straight beams at him so much it hurts, and Jim winces once his back is turned. He enters Bones’ office unannounced. 

“Hey.”

Bones smiles. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Can you beg off?” Jim grins. “I have a surprise.”

“I’m just…there. Finished.” Bones shuts down his computer, pulling a gold sweater on over his white shirt. “Now, where to?”

Jim makes a shhh gesture. He takes his hand, leading him to the parking garage. He has the spare key to Bones’ Benz, so he unlocks the doors. Then he pulls out a long red piece of silk. His voice gets caught. “You—you trust me, right?”

Bones has half a smile on his face. “Always.”

Jim swallows, hoping the look in his eyes says everything. It must because Bones kisses him. Jim keeps him close and ties the blindfold. He helps Bones into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt for him. He kisses him again.

Then he gets behind the wheel and sets a land speed record to LAX. He parks the car, steering them both to the Lufthansa terminal. Jim uses the kiosks to check them in to not blow the surprise. 

Then he removes the blindfold, handing Bones his passport and boarding passes: LAX to Frankfurt to Munich to Bern.

Bones stares down at the ticket with a hilariously befuddled expression. “What?”

“Let’s elope,” Jim says. 

“Oh Sam,” Bones replies, looking at him. “I can’t just---there’s a lot at work, and—”

“Bones,” Jim says. “Just for a few days. Just trust me.”

They have a long time before they need to get through security. So Jim chooses to be patient. It drags on long enough his palms sweat and his mouth dries out.

Bones looks up with a smile. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay!” Jim grabs him, whirls him around, dips him and kisses him old Hollywood style. He drags him through the horrendous bullshit security line, then to the first class lounge. Jim orders them a bottle of Pommery, and they drink it while watching take offs and landings. 

Bones starts to laugh. “I don’t have any clothing.”

“You won’t need it,” Jim says with a salacious wink.

“Fair enough,” Bones replies with a raised eyebrow.

Jim glances out the glass of the lounge separating them from the hustle and bustle, bright smile on his face that immediately freezes. Striding through LAX towards customs is Spock S’chn T’gai, the INTERPOL agent that nearly bested him four times and counting. He’s got a trench coat over one arm, his passport in the other hand, and an incredibly serious expression on his face.

Jim forgets to breathe until Spock disappears out of sight, having not noticed them or even thought to glance inside the lounge.

It’s a victory. Jim turns back to his lover. 

They kill the champagne and all the time remaining before their flight. With a quick stop at a shop for neck pillows, earplugs, and magazines, they board when First is called. They’re in the middle row on the starboard side of the plane, and the flight attendant brings them more champagne. 

Jim has the window seat, and he looks out at Los Angeles at sunset.

They won’t be coming back.


	8. Cheese and Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive from Bern to Gstaad is rather eventful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It all had to come out sometime.

Halfway into the flight while Bones sleeps, Jim pickpockets his cell, checks that it’s turned off, and then excuses himself to the lavatory where he deposits it in the trash. The last GPS coordinates will say LAX, so that’s good. And his car is there, which is even better. Jim already wiped his fingerprints off it while Bones stood blindfolded in the garage. 

He returns to his seat and asks the flight attendant for a cheese tray and the caviar service. He knows from romantic getaways Bones doesn’t sleep well on flights, and when he wakes he usually wants to snack on something. So he gets his favorites. Predictably Bones wakes up fifteen minutes after the food arrives, and he blinks, staring down at the spread. He gives Jim a look that’s a cross between irritated and besotted, and Jim grins at him.

“No one’s ever gotten me this well, and it kind of makes me reconsider this trip,” Bones grouses. He fixes a blini with creme fraiche and caviar, taking a bite.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” Jim asks. “Being spoiled?”

“I typically do the spoiling,” Bones contests. He fishes something out of his other pocket, the one he doesn’t put his cell in. He opens his palm---there are two gold bands.

Jim’s throat closes. He picks one off Bones’ palm, slides it on his left hand. It’s a perfect fit. He knows now more than ever he made the right choice. Though he has to come clean, and he has to do it soon.

Not on a plane, though. Not until they get to Gstaad. The car from the airport...Jim rented a vintage Benz.

Jim will tell him in the car.

They finish their snack and queue up a movie they haven’t seen, reclining and moving the divider to snuggle together. The flight attendant smiles at them as she brings them coffee and breakfast. When they land, they head to another lounge, and they eat a second time and drink more coffee. Then it’s off to Munich---same song there. Finally they land in Bern, and Jim pulls up Waze on his new to him but identical to his old cellphone with the new number and unlocked SIM. He drives into the mountains. He lets Bones pick the music, and he goes with jazz. 

It’s a perfect soundtrack to the drive, which is green because of the time of year. Jim doesn’t know that they’ll be staying through winter, but the thought is nice. Primarily he contemplates chocolate and cheese and gravlax.

Bones pats his pocket with a frown. “Wait, where’s my phone?”

“Hm?” JIm feigns innocent.

“My phone, I had it on the plane.” Bones feels around his seat in the car, trying to get into the small crannies. “Shit, did I seriously lose my phone? I have to call Nyota and let her know what’s going so she doesn’t panic when I don’t show up to the office.”

Jim hands him one of the burners. “Here.”

Bones stares at the phone. 

He stays silent for five minutes of the drive, and it takes Jim only a tenth of that to realize he’s outed himself. Carol would scream at him for being so sloppy. 

Not that she matters anymore. 

But this was his plan all along wasn't it? To tell him in the car? No time like the present.

“Why do you have burner phones?” Bones asks, his voice unnervingly calm and flat.

Jim licks his lips. His hands grip the wheel tighter. He turns down the radio and figures out how to start. “When I was a toddler, I realized I can pickpocket people with hardly any effort. When I got to kindergarten, I learned how good I am at lying. When I was ten I found out the reason why my Dad only sent letters and cards wasn’t because he was a deadbeat so much as it was because that’s all he was allowed to do in the maximum security prison he’s spending---” He does the math. “He’s got two more years with good behavior.”

Jim pointedly doesn’t look at Bones.

“Sam Carr died the week before we met leaving behind no loved ones or spouse,” Jim continues. “My name is Jim Kirk.”

“Stop the car,” Bones says, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“Bones, I---”

“Stop. The. Fucking. Car.” Bones’ voice has gained strength, and out of the corner of Jim’s eye, he can see the fury.

Jim finds a safe place to pull over, and he stops. He pointedly disengages the locks so Bones can’t run. He unbuckles his safety belt and looks at the man he loves. Bones' skin is white except for two red spots on his cheeks, his eyes glinting like knives, his mouth a fraught line, his hands wound tightly into fists that look like they hurt. “You’re conning me.”

“No,” Jim says.

“Yes, you are,” Bones spits. “You want my clients.”

“That was the job in the beginning,” Jim admits. He owes him that. “But...I’ve never been conning you about us. It’s never been a lie. I love you---that’s not a lie.”

“Just everything else about you is one,” Bones yells. “Literally everything about us is based on bullshit!”

“Bones,” Jim says. He expected anger, but he thought the love would mean more. 

It stings that it doesn’t. 

“Let me out,” Bones says. He tries the door.

“No, Bones,” Jim says. “Just to begin with, you’re too far from any towns or cities. It’s too long of a walk. Furthermore, I want to work this out. I want to get past this. Can you...will you allow me a chance to really talk to you, to tell you the truth? The whole truth, anything you want to ask.”

Bones sits with a deep glare in his eyes for a long time. Jim visibly perspires. He has no idea what his answer will be.

After twenty minutes, Bones sighs and rolls his eyes. He looks out his window. “Drive.”

Jim can’t stop the sigh or the shaky smile. He turns back on the engine and drives.


	9. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, a word from Leonard's partner and BFF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, we had to hear from Nyota at some point. Also enter Spock.

The fact of the matter is, Nyota Uhura’s life is kind of a mess.

Her professional life is A+. She and Leonard get more clients and more money all the time. Their staff is exceedingly competent, especially Pavel and Christine. They have a high quality security expert from the SEALS everyone calls Cupcake who’s a bit of a revelation.

But her personal life?

Two weeks ago she walked into her office, Ray-Ban Jackie Ohh’s still covering her eyes even though she was indoors, grabbed the scotch she keeps in her bottom drawer, and poured herself a double. Leonard entered, took one look, and pulled the curtains she kept for privacy. “What’s wrong?”

“Men are scum, and I no longer believe in marriage as an institution,” she said after a minute.

Leonard’s right eyebrow rose. “What’d he do?”

“I have no time for cheaters,” Nyota explained. She took a long drink of the scotch. It burned a bit going down, but she likes it that way.

“Shit,” Leonard said as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck him.”

“Never again,” Nyota grumbled. “From now on all I want is my career and my friends. Love is for idiots, present company excluded.”

“Nah, it still applies,” Leonard answered. “But you know...when I met Sam, the day before I held a similar opinion to you. I doubt you want to hear this right now, but it gets better.” He squatted in front of her, wrapping her in a big hug. “And I can send Cupcake to scare the woman.”

“Let her fucking have him,” Nyota answered. “I’m done. I’m out. Give me your lawyer’s name.”

“Areel Shaw,” Leonard said without missing a beat. “I’ll text you her number.”

“Thank you,” Nyota replied.

Leonard hugged her again. She buried her face in his neck like a young girl, and a single tear escaped one of her eyes. He stood, and she wiped it away. “I’ll take all the meetings today. Maybe go hom---” He paused. “Go to Beverly Hills. Buy those Louboutins he said were too frivolous. Get a Zac Posen gown while you’re at it. Get several.” And then he excused himself, and she did just that, enjoying a nice long solo lunch at Nobu in the process.

The reason why she loves Leonard is he gets her. 

Nyota arrives at work realizing Leonard isn’t already in his office. She pulls out her cellphone and calls him. It goes right to voicemail. “Huh,” she says. “Leonard? It’s Nyota. Just wondering if you’re making it into the office today. Call me back.”

She goes into his office, because she is a PI too, and begins to search for clues. Pavel mentioned Sam whisking him away last night with some kind of surprise, so maybe it’s a long dirty weekend getaway since it’s Leonard’s off week from his custody arrangement for Jo. There’s nothing written in Leonard’s planner aside from a lunch trip to Tiffany’s, and sure enough behind his desk is a little patented-shade-of-blue bag. There are two ring boxes in it, but no rings.

Nyota smiles. She calls him a second time. “You’re a shithead for eloping and not telling me, Leonard, I do hope you realize this. Congratulations, and I will be sure to give you the silent treatment for two days upon your return. Give Sam my love.”

Nyota hangs up the phone, sits in Leonard’s chair, and props her feet up on the desk. Well. That’s some shit.

She doesn’t get time to focus on it before Christine is at her door a bit flustered. “Nyota, uh there’s---”

A man, a tall drink of water with a hipster haircut and a serious facial expression has followed Christine to Leonard’s office. He’s wearing a tailored blue suit-not bespoke-and a matching blue tie. His shoes are polished, and he nods in her direction. “My name is Spock S’chn T’gai,” he begins in a flat voice as he holds open a badge. 

INTERPOL.

Nyota’s posture immediately snaps to professional. “Christine, could you---”

“I’m out!” Christine says as she bolts, dark skinny jeans, blazer, boots, and blonde bob streaking like tail lights down the 405.

Nyota smiles at S’chn T’gai. “What may I help you with?”

He gestures to the chair across from her. “May I?” At her nod, he unbuttons his jacket and sits. He then pulls up an image on a phablet. “Do you recognize these people?”

Nyota takes it from him and gives it a long look. The photo is bad quality, but she recognizes the face of the man in between the Asian guy and the blonde woman. “That’s my partner’s fiance, Sam Carr.”

S’chn T’gai makes a note on a pad. “I am afraid that is not his name,” he states as if commenting on the weather.

Nyota takes a moment to register his actual words, because he’s not like anyone she’s ever met. She can normally read people like they’re alphabet magnets on a fridge, but he’s implacable, impossible. It fascinates her.

Then the sentence registers.

“What?” 

“His name is James Kirk, his associates are Hikaru Sulu and Carol Marcus,” S’chn T’gai continues. “They are wanted in ten countries including the United States, and I have been personally tracking them across Europe for four years.”

“Wanted for what?” Nyota asks, though she knows the answer.

“Fraud primarily,” S’chn T’gai answers. “To put it in colloquial terms, they are con artists.”

The blood drains out of her face, and she’s already in motion. “Christine!” She leaves him in her dust, though she hears him hastily following her, like a young puppy at its masters heels. Christine starts at her desk, where Pavel sits on the edge of it talking to her about something she can’t catch. “I need you to check our servers, see if anything’s been accessed that shouldn’t, any backdoors, anything.”

Pavel stares at her. “She’s a lawyer.”

“For Anonymous,” Nyota reminds him.

Pavel blinks as Christine opens her laptop and goes to town, fingers flurrying with so many keystrokes none of them can count. “Yeah, there’s one. This person’s good though...if I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t see it.” She types more. “I accessed the file to see who made it or when it’s going to deploy...deployment is midnight. It’s basically like a big bomb that’s gonna not only steal all our client info but wipe their accounts.”

“Ai ai ai ai ai,” Pavel says as he wipes a hand down his face.

Christine types again, even more furiously than before. It goes on for ten minutes until finally she stops to wipe the sweat off her brow. Pavel massages her shoulders. “That should do it.”

“Do what?” Pavel and S’chn T’gai ask in unison.

“I put a new subroutine in that they can’t see,” Christine says. “This garbage deploys at midnight, mine deploys at 12:03, basically undoing everything. They’ll have three minutes to celebrate, and then blam! They won’t even have time to decrypt.”

“Will your subroutine also reply back with a location?” S’chn T’gai asks.

Christine makes a bunch of keystrokes. “Yeah, it’ll turn on the location services on their computer. It’ll give me their IP address too.”

Nyota closes her eyes. “You’re a gem. You’re getting a raise. I love Leonard for hiring you.”

Christine preens a bit. It’s deserved, and Pavel looks at her with a bit of awe.

Nyota remembers Leonard is unaccounted for. She rings him on her phone a third time, but she knows what the answer will be. “Can one of you get into Leonard’s phone?”

Pavel’s already done it. “Last known was LAX.”

Nyota shouts an expletive, taking all of them by surprise. She turns to S’chn T’gai. “Europe’s most wanted made off with my partner. They’re engaged.”

“What?” Pavel, Christine, and now Cupcake all say.

“You’re looking for a Samuel Ryan Carr and a Leonard Horatio McCoy,” Nyota gives S’chn T’gai a pointed frown. “Assuming your Kirk used the same name he’s been using while conning my partner.” She spits out the next words. “And all of us.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Pavel leaps up. “Sam’s a fucking con man?”

“I am afraid so,” S’chn T’gai answers. 

“Christ,” Cupcake grumbles. “I liked him.”

“We all did,” Christine answers. “Leonard especially.”

“Wait---” Pavel’s brows are furrowed. “Wait. If the con was to get at our clients, why has he taken Leonard with him? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Is he a hostage?” Christine asks, but it’s clear she’s not really buying it.

“That would be a first,” S’chn T’gai answers. 

“We have to find Leonard,” Nyota says. “Once we find him, we’ll find Jim Kirk. They have to be together.”

Nyota has her keys in her pocket. She grabs her handbag and jerks her head at S’chn T’gai. “You. Come with me.”

“We’re coming too,” Pavel says.

Nyota’s about to bark at them to stay when she realizes that this is Leonard on the line. There’s no way they will. “Fine. We’ll take the van.”

The five of them sprint down to the garage, piling into their surveillance van. Nyota breaks about seventy traffic laws which this INTERPOL guy almost points out but decides against it. That’s when she decides she likes him.

They get to the Long Term parking and in a secluded spot with no other cars find Leonard’s Benz. Pavel grabs a pick. They look inside the car---nothing. “Move,” Pavel says as he stands sideways next to the passenger window. 

They do.

Pavel puts his arm next to his shoulder. He slams it with a large pick into the window. Same spot and again. On the third go, the window shatters. Pavel pushes the glass through, the alarm goes off, he opens the car, and unlocks it.

Nyota’s pulled on a pair of gloves. She fine tooth combs the car. Leonard doesn’t tend to keep a lot of stuff in it, but there’s nothing. Not even a pack of gum or change in the change holder.

S’chn T’gai dusts for prints around her. He comes up blank.

“Shit,” Nyota says.

“Fuck,” Pavel agrees.

S’chn T’gai pulls out a cellphone. It’s clear after a few moments he’s on the phone with the government. “Yes. I need to know if a Leonard Horatio McCoy has traveled by plane out of Los Angeles International Airport.” A pause. “The last twenty-four hours.” Another pause. “How soon?” One more time. “Very well. Expedite the information if possible. You have my thanks.”

They all look at him; Christine imploringly, Cupcake with curiosity, Pavel with fury, and Nyota’s face is measured, careful, but concerned just as much.

Forty minutes go by, and his phone rings. They all jump, trained professionals that they are. “S’chn T’gai.” A long pause. “Bern? That is the correct final destination?”

“Switzerland,” Pavel says. 

“If he’s wanted in Europe, why go back?” asks Cupcake.

“Hiding in plain sight,” answers Nyota. Her eyes stay on S’chn T’gai.

“Again you have my thanks,” he says as he hangs up. “I have no doubt his associates are still here in Los Angeles. I must carefully consider how to proceed, as the longer I spend here, the further Jim Kirk can get away from Bern with Leonard McCoy. I am already one step behind.”

“What if we grab the others?” Pavel says. “We can sic the po-po on them.”

“I’m putting you in charge, Pavel,” Nyota says. “Agent S’chn T’gai and I have a plane to catch.”

S’chn T’gai, for the first time, shows an emotion: utter bewilderment.

Pavel salutes. Cupcake raises his hand. “Why him?”

“Seniority,” Pavel chimes in with a smirk. “Plus I’m the one who fights dirty.”

“Touche,” says Cupcake.

Nyota keeps her passport in her purse at all times. It comes in handy. She realizes she has no change of clothes, nothing but what she has in her hands.

It’s irrelevant.

S’chn T’gai is booking their flight. After he’s finished, he turns to her. “We depart at four this afternoon. That is time enough for us to pack and regroup.”

“Got it,” Nyota says. They pile back into the van to their corporate HQ.

If Jim Kirk makes a hair go out of place on Leonard’s head, S’chn T’gai will be the least of his worries.


	10. Your Pride and My Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim comes clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's soundtrack is Alabama Shakes "Don't Wanna Fight" and Saint Etienne's "Nothing Can Stop Us Now."
> 
> There's a physical altercation in this between Jim and Bones. I don't condone it, and Bones doesn't really either.

They arrived at the chalet twenty minutes ago, Jim managing to get Bones inside the house. It's impressive---four bedrooms, five baths, gourmet kitchen. He booked under an alias with a wire transfer. They're alone, remote, with no one to find them.

Bones sits on the overstuffed leather sofa as Jim starts a fire. It ignites, warm and glowing in their living room. Jim paid for six months, so they'll have time to regroup. Possibly make it back to the states.

Jim's eyes widen as he realizes this means Bones can't see Jo for half a year. No doubt it's already occurred to him, and Jim rubs a palm down his face. He turns to face his fiance with a strained smile. "This looks bad."

"Bad doesn't begin," Bones replies without looking at him.

Jim sits on the coffee table in front of him. Bones turns sideways, periodically glancing at him out of the corner his eye. "I did this because I love you. I did this because I was supposed to run away to Asia and give the goods to my benefactor. I did this because I was supposed to never speak to you again. Being with you matters more...that other stuff is meaningless to me now. You're all that I care about, all that I want." Jim swallows. "Doesn't that mean something?"

"It didn't matter enough for you to not run the con," Bones points out. "It didn't matter enough for you to be honest with me in the first place."

Jim doesn't argue---he can't. He fiddles with the gold band on his left finger, not sure what to say.

Bones sighs, wipes his eyes. "Our entire relationship is built on lies. Every good memory I have is tainted now."

"They don't have to be," Jim says. "It _does_ matter that I came clean at all. That I didn't just cut and run. That I didn't just go. It _does_ count, otherwise you'd have taken the rental and bailed by now."

Bones swallows, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Who says I won't?"

Jim sits on the floor and takes Bones' hand. He doesn't jerk away. "I love you." He knows he's being manipulative, but he doesn't know what else to do. "I love you with everything I am. Nothing and no one has ever made me consider bailing on my partners or the benefactor. You're all I want."

Bones does jerk the hand then, immediately clenching it into a fist and catching Jim on his jaw. Jim falls over from the blow---it wasn't direct, mostly glancing off, but it's enough to make him lose his balance. He lies on his back on the ground as Bones rolls off the sofa onto him, his hands attempting to slap the shit out of Jim. Jim covers his face with his arms as Bones wails on him for five minutes. 

"You stupid fucker!" Bones shouts. "You stupid, stupid fucking---!"

Jim lets him. It's the least he deserves, and besides, Bones isn't actually trying to hurt him. Bones knows four martial arts and is picking up a fifth with lessons given to his staff every week. Jim's scrappy, but Bones is trained. His shoulders aren't dislocated, his ribs aren't broken...

Bones' heart isn't in this.

He sags, stops. Jim lowers his arms to look Bones in the eye. There's no anger in his gaze, it's all heart break and sorrow. Jim reaches up, wraps a hand around the back of Bones' neck. He pulls him down, and Bones winces. Jim plants a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

"Stop it."

Jim kisses the corner of one eye.

"I said stop." Bones' voice wavers, cracks. He doesn't mean it.

Jim rolls them, Bones on his back with Jim above him. Jim holds his face in both hands, strokes his cheeks with his thumbs. Bones looks up at him and his entire face is full of turmoil. He wants to run but he won't. He wants to fight more but he can't. 

The reason why Jim is so brilliant is his ability to read people, and Bones is shit at hiding at the best of times. He won't play him, not anymore, but he can see that Bones doesn't want to leave. He sees that the love means more, and Jim bends down, closes the distance, and kisses him. Bones doesn't wrap his arms around him, but he does kiss back, his eyes immediately drifting closed as they do every other time. 

Jim deepens the kiss, pouring his heart and soul into it. It ends, and against Bones' lips he whispers, "I love you. I love you more than my own life."

It's true---he has to. Why else would he have emptied one of Pike's accounts for Bones? Why would he run away with him instead of going back to Carol? 

Jim sits up. He's playing a wildly dangerous game. He'll be running for the rest of his life. Bones will have to run with him...they'll have to go somewhere they can grab Jo, all of them fleeing. East Asia and most of Europe are out...but Dubai...Dubai can work. They'll be an openly queer couple there, but the danger that causes is easier to deal with than Pike or Carol.

Much easier.

Jim bends back down and kisses Bones again before he can ask. He strips off his leather jacket, his cashmere and denim. Bones flips them, doing the same, and they make love on the floor. Jim kisses, sucks...he gives Bones a hickey on his Adam's apple, he locks their fingers together, entwining them against the carpet. Bones has one hand in Jim's hair, drawing him down. They both have rug burn, and when they finish, Jim collapses on top of Bones. 

Bones soothes him like a spooked horse, Jim raising his head to Bones wiping tears from his eyes.

They stare at each other.

"We're in trouble," Bones says. It's not a question.

"I've caused it, yeah," Jim says.

Bones tsks. "Nyota will kill you. If she doesn't, Pavel will. Whatever hack or what-the-fuck-ever you did, my team will find it and shut it down. They'll trace it, and your cohorts will go down hard."

"Fair," Jim replies with his voice hoarse. For the first time in years, he needs to smoke. "My benefactor or my partners won't care about the cash and deets. They'll care I ran. We're in a shitload of trouble, Bones."

"I assumed," Bones says with a sigh. "I'm still mad, but I'm not violent because I realize the scope involved. It'd have been easier for you to bail. This was actually the hard call." He looks off to the side. "You're not completely off the hook, but...there's no point in constant screaming matches. Or domestic violence."

"Eh in my case, it's allowed," Jim says as he rests his head against Bones' chest. He listens to his heart, his breathing---in, out, slowly. 

"I need to call Jo," Bones says. "I need to explain to her that Daddy can't see her for a while."

"Use the burner I gave you," Jim replies. 

"In a minute." Bones wraps his arms around Jim and holds him close. "In a minute."

Jim lets him hold him. He swallows, and he prays.


End file.
